


we come back to life

by carpelucem



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, don't these things always happen at weddings?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpelucem/pseuds/carpelucem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But, as all things meant to be, it was a matter of seizing the opportunity at exactly the right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we come back to life

**Author's Note:**

> Having somehow fallen head over heels for this pairing, this was just an exercise in shameless self-indulgence. (Better late than never, right?)   
> Title from 'Still Got Tonight' by Matthew Morrison.  
> Thanks for reading.

Will drums his fingers against his leg, impatient and anxious in the backseat of the cab from JFK. His flight was late from Ohio, icy rain battering the plane the entire flight, and the seconds are ticking away on his watch. 

He has two days in the city before school pulls him back to the edge of nowhere, and Will hates that he's wasting such a huge chunk of his time in a taxi to the city.

Pulling to the door at the front of the building, the address as committed to his memory now as readily as his home in Lima, Will nearly leaps from the car before it's fully stopped. He shoves money at the driver and shoulders his overnight bag, slamming the door with more force than he intended. 

He finds the correct apartment instinctively, muscle memory leading him to her doorstep. There's a heady anticipation bubbling in Will's veins, the same as every other visit he makes to this little two-room corner of the city. He'd have thought before that it might lessen each time, but there's a piece of Will (all of him) that's glad the feeling doesn't ever diminish.

His hand falters for just a moment before rapping on her door, while he tries to take a breath to steady himself, but Will’s knuckles barely graze the steel before it’s flung open. 

Rachel stands before him, the same nervous, happy excitement he’d felt on the entire trip playing across her face. Her expression falls for a brief second when she looks at him, takes in the coat still buttoned against the February cold, his single bag slung over his arm, still just outside the threshold of her door.

"Will, what's wrong?" Her hand instinctively goes to the ends of her hair, combing it through her fingers, a gesture that brings back a memory of sweater sets and endless arguments over song selections. The slightly manic energy that brimmed over when she was in high school has mellowed now, palpable still, but with the raw edges smoothed away. Rachel's always been talented, always been lovely, but this woman standing before him is different altogether- Will still doesn't quite know what to do with himself around her sometimes. 

Will shrugs helplessly, shakes away that ticking clock in his head, and takes a long look at her before reaching out to wrap her in his arms. "I just - there’s never enough time. God, you're beautiful."

A smile lights Rachel's face and she moves them both inside, backing her way into the small apartment. Her fingers trace his mouth, down his neck, bury themselves into his hair when she pulls Will down to her. 

"You're not so bad, yourself, Mr Schue," she teases before kissing him fervently. It's been a month, four long weeks and change since he's seen Rachel last, and the taste of her melts the stress of his morning like the heat of her apartment melts the ice crystals on his jacket. 

While Rachel slips the buttons free from his coat, puts his bag on the side table, and tugs him to the bed to wrap herself around him, it takes Will a moment to remember that this isn't how it's always been. How incredible to think that Rachel's not always been in his space and imprinted on his every moment like some indelible part of Will's genetic makeup. (A corner of his mind argues that Will's wrong, that maybe she really was, right from the start.) 

Their long distance relationship might be the most difficult thing Will’s ever done. A year ago, he had never dreamed anything occurring between them in the first place, and certainly never intended for them to start their lives together like this. It’s hard work that is sustained with Skype sessions and Will singing Rachel to sleep over the phone after a late shift, her texting him encouragement to keep it together after a long day of school and a glee club that’s slowly being transitioned to a new director. They manage to carve two precious days together out of their schedules every few weeks, until Rachel graduates from NYADA and Will completes his last year at McKinley. Summer is the finish line for this marathon he’s running, and then Will has interviews set up at schools across the city, and their future can finally begin.

For now, Will tries to appreciate each moment with her, tries to absorb as much of Rachel into him as he can to sustain him until the next time together. It’s a conscious effort during their weekends to forget that they live in two separate states, and it’s the thought he avoids until the very minute he has to leave her in bed, pick up his bag, and hail a cab to the airport.

But for Rachel, Will thinks as he winds a hand in her hair, sliding his hands over her skin and reacquainting himself with her as quickly as possible, for Rachel he is game to try.

Their beginning, at least what led Will and Rachel to this, now, was not at all the theatrical meet-cute that Will knew a teenage version of Rachel held as her ideal.The simple version of how they met, if people who don’t know them ask, was a wedding of mutual friends in their hometown. (Rachel flew back to Lima because she had to see Quinn marry Puck with her own eyes.) 

The complicated version - there are six years and a whole range of varied emotions and experiences between the two of them. It wasn’t ever a matter of moments between Will and Rachel deciding their future, for the majority of their relationship, the mere thought of being with her was a line he’d never dare cross. 

But, as all things meant to be, it was a matter of seizing the opportunity at exactly the right time.

\--

Will remembers a hollow dread at the thought of attending Quinn and Puck’s wedding at all, from the moment the invitation landed in his mailbox. He knew, logically, that it was fantastic that they’d all get a chance to be together again, but Will couldn’t help feeling that the occasion would be the slap in the face he’d been avoiding, that there truly was a finality to being their glee director. It served in reminding Will that his kids, his family, were grown and moving on. They weren't going to magically stroll back through the choir room doors, desperately in need of him to help solve their problems. 

Since the debacle with Emma ended a year earlier, he’d missed being needed. 

Nevertheless, Will suited up that Saturday and made his way to the Temple Beth Israel. The temple was beautiful, more restrained and tasteful than anything Will could ever imagine Puck agreeing to for his wedding. He started to loosen up a little when Artie greeted him with a surprised smile, waving Will down to the aisle where the kids were seated. They traded hugs and made small talk until the ceremony began. 

The awestruck look on Puck’s face when Quinn walked down the aisle towards him explained the quiet, elegant surroundings. Noah Puckerman was clearly smitten with his beautiful bride, and it warmed Will’s heart to see the obvious love Quinn and Puck had always shared finally take root. 

Mrs Puckerman had thoughtfully seated the glee kids together for the reception afterwards and mercifully added Will to their numbers. (To be honest, WIll probably would have dispensed with his seating card and joined them anyway, had the circumstances been different.) Will found himself sitting next to Rachel, who had slipped in the back of the synagogue after everyone was seated. He barely recognized her, the woman sitting next to him had attained the polished sheen of a city girl in her few years away. The designer dress and sleek hair were a far cry from the owl sweaters Will associated with Rachel, and he couldn’t deny that the slick veneer of New York suited her. 

Rachel squeezed him on the arm and dropped a surprisingly casual kiss on his cheek, told him it was great to see him again, then proceeded to launch into a discussion of the wedding fashion with Kurt on her right. 

Will smiled when Puck and Quinn made their entrance about five minutes later, and the DJ started pumping out a very familiar series of rock songs (clearly chosen by the groom) that had their whole table singing along. They all squeezed together to catch up, talking over one another, laughing at old jokes, and slipping into their old routine. Despite new hairstyles and a few new significant others who looked as overwhelmed as Will felt, it was like nothing had changed in the years since they were last together. In between songs, they all filled in the blanks of where they’d been since high school. A few of them had stayed in town, occasionally dropping by the high school to say hello to Will, but for the others it was a long-overdue reunion. After an hour of conversation with everyone, everyone broke back off into their little groups and Will finally asked Rachel about her courses at NYADA, the auditions she’d gone on, the just-missed opportunity in Funny Girl. 

“We’re all so proud of you. One of McKinley’s own making it in New York - you’re one of our biggest success stories.” 

“I’m not a success, Mr Schue. I have a studio apartment and two jobs I cram in between try-outs and callbacks and school. It’s a far cry from my name headlining a marquee.” 

“You followed your dream. That’s huge, Rachel.” 

She just shook her head and brushed the compliment off. Auditions were plentiful, Rachel explained, but starring roles for unknowns weren’t, and she was slowly working her way up, getting her name and her voice to the right people while singing in cabaret and revue shows. It was the maturity that struck Will the most, where the fearlessly determined Rachel Berry of high school would have pushed aside any doubt or uncertainty about her future on the Great White Way, this version of Rachel was a little more realistic and pragmatic. Somewhere between boarding a train for New York and sitting at a wedding in the town she left behind, Rachel had become an adult. Will wasn’t quite sure sure what to make of her. 

After dinner and toasts and cake (and a goblet of sorbet for Rachel - still a vegan, and that Quinn remembered that fact made Will smile), Puck serenaded his new bride with a song he’d written just for her. He followed it with Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, inviting his old glee members onstage to sing along with him. Will cheered them on from the table, despite more than one of the kids beckoning him up to join them. It was a pleasure to see them perform together again, relaxed and without the competition of vying for acceptance and notice in high school hanging over it all. It had been too long since they’d been together and Will wanted to relish the opportunity. (Maybe, selfishly, he wanted to grant himself a little bit of credit for the group of them who became friends - hell, family to one another.)

Puck shouted something about shots from the stage and that was when the party started, it was free reign with the DJ mic once the alcohol started flowing. Almost all of the kids took a turn, and drawing way back into the repertoire they’d covered in glee, it was a trip down memory lane for Will. As he laughed on the dancefloor and sang along, each song played like a crystallized moment that Will could see clearly in his mind. 

A hand on his elbow jerked Will out of the somewhat melancholy direction of his thoughts and he turned to find Rachel standing next to him. She was up on her toes, even in heels, leaning in next to his ear to be heard under Artie’s slightly drunken rendition of Boyz II Men.

“You haven’t done anything, Mr Schue,” Rachel said. Her cheeks were pink and her hair was wavy-damp with the exertion of jumping around with her former classmates and all of a sudden, the girl Will remembered was right there in front of him. 

“You haven’t either,” Will answered, and it was true. Rachel clapped and shouted and danced to the music, but she hadn’t gotten onstage yet. “Why don’t you go up and sing for us? It’s been too long.” 

“I was thinking that maybe you wanted to try something together? You know, for Puck and Quinn.” It was a casual reply, but it took him by surprise. He wasn’t used to Rachel offering to share the spotlight, especially with him, and it was touching, more than Will would have thought it might be, that she’d ask him to sing with her.

Moving them away from the dancefloor, he took a drink of the beer he’d left at his seat. Will looked over at Rachel, the swirl of the disco lights catching the silver jewelry at her throat and wrist. 

“What did you have in mind, Rachel?” 

A brilliant smile lit her face, nostalgia and maybe a little something more that Will couldn’t quite discern in her eyes. “Well, it is a wedding, and if I recall correctly, once upon a time we did a pretty fantastic rendition of Endless Love.” 

Will remembered, with total clarity, that they did sing well together. Maybe a little too well, if the weeks following their duet had anything to do with it, consultations with Emma about a simple schoolgirl crush and a rather foolish performance of the Police coming swiftly back to Will. (Had he ever really forgotten that?)

“Well, you were fantastic, but when was that not the case?” 

A look of unguarded pleasure crossed Rachel’s face at his remark, and Will felt a flush of happiness warm him in the unexpected joy of making her look like that.

“Mr Schue, I…” Rachel was visibly flustered and utterly charming. The almost brittle facade she’d worn as a teenager did a good job of hiding her emotions and Will found he enjoyed seeing the full range of Rachel’s feelings play across her face. Her hand moved like a trapped bird at her side, and Will reached out to sandwich it between both of his. Rachel’s eyes flew to Will’s face when he moved forward, into her space, close enough so she could hear him under the suddenly deafening Whitney Houston song coming from the stage. 

“For God’s sake, I feel old enough, Rachel. I’m not your teacher anymore. Would you please call me Will?”

At that proximity, he felt Rachel nod more clearly than he could see it, and his thumb stroked a slow circle on her palm. Will’s other hand brushed back a piece of hair that was caught in her lipstick, tucking it behind her ear. Suddenly, touching her wasn’t anything like the congratulatory hugs or cheerful high fives after a choreography routine that Will remembered.

“You’re not old, Mr - Will,” Rachel stammered. Leaning back a little further, Will saw that her gaze was locked on him, and her usual stream of nervous chatter had completely halted. 

For a moment, Will felt a cold stone of uncertainty settle in his stomach and he started to pull away. He started to fear that he may have taken it too far, that he’d read the situation completely wrong and that Rachel could really only ever see him as her glee advisor. (Not that he could blame her. A few hours ago, Will would have been hard-pressed to admit he’d ever seen anything more than the satisfaction of a job well done and a deep abiding friendship in any of his glee kids. It was just increasingly difficult to reconcile that the woman standing before him with her hand clasped in his was anything resembling the starry-eyed girl with a crush in his choir room.)

“Wait, Will.” Rachel twisted her hand so her palm pressed against his, twined her fingers through his own to draw Will close again, trapping their hands between them. “Will. Please, don’t go.” Her dark eyes searched his face, and Will wondered if she was experiencing the same tilt-shift in her world view that he was. 

It halted when Tina walked by, catcalling at Rachel to get up onstage and sing something for all of them. 

Rachel’s other hand flew to the ends of her hair, smoothed the strands between her fingertips, and she looked up at Will before shyly asking if he still wanted to sing with her. 

There wasn’t a breath of hesitation in his answer. “Always, Rachel.” 

Will led them through the crowd, to the edge of the risers, and it wasn’t until he was helping Rachel up the stairs that he noticed their fingers were still linked.

Sam walked away, passing Will his microphone and patting him on the shoulder. Rachel pulled herself away, had composed herself enough to request the proper vocal track from the DJ and grab the other mic from Mercedes. 

As the gentle piano intro started, Will thought back to the last time he and Rachel performed the song, in a fluorescent lit choir room, in front of the group of people clustered at the edge of the stage. He’d been so uncomfortable with Rachel’s song choice at the time, the words of the popular ballad feeling far too intimate for a duet with a fifteen year old, he’d discouraged singing together for just about the entirety of her time at McKinley.

He didn’t feel that particular brand of discomfort the second time, nothing remotely close to it. In that moment, as he traded verses off with Rachel at the reception, Will felt a stab of confused regret at the missed opportunities. Rachel’s voice soared over the romantic lyrics and he realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off her since they walked onstage. She returned Will’s steady gaze, singing verses back to him, twirling under his arm when he offered his hand to spin her during the bridge. 

It was a beautiful performance, but instead of enjoying it, Will found himself trying to rationalize the strange and bewildering revelation that he was attracted to Rachel, and that maybe he had been for a lot longer than he was comfortable admitting. 

It was a lot to process in the duration of a four minute song, his mind was racing. Will tried to convince himself that it was one-sided, that Rachel wasn’t suddenly overcome with the same ridiculous realization that he was and that he was being totally unreasonable. Singing to him like that was clearly just proof that Rachel was the brilliant actress she’d always claimed. 

Then Rachel turned, clasped his hand tighter, and twisted towards Will so that she was wrapped in his arm for the final chorus. Pressed into his chest, Rachel tilted her head back and finished out the ballad, singing like her words were meant only for the two of them. The way her eyes locked on Will’s and her heart thudded against him in the waning moments of their duet, it was absurdly easy to want to give in. Rachel’s face moved towards his and then applause broke through. 

He felt a sudden void next to him as Rachel uncurled herself from his grasp, nodded to the crowd and thrust her mic into Brittany’s waiting hand. She skipped down the stairs and Will lost her, disappearing into the dark beyond the dancefloor lights. He turned back to the audience, mumbling a quick congratulations to the bride and groom and made his way back to the table, scanning the ballroom for Rachel. The sight of her purse still nestled in her seat gave Will a little stab of hope that she was somewhere close, and he had a dire need to talk to her, to find out what the hell had just happened between them.

The lobby of the Lima Marriott only had a few couches littered across the tiled floor and a guest services kiosk that was closed for the night. The desk clerk just nodded absently to Will as he rushed through, pushing his way out the glass doors. 

Rachel was standing next to a stone planter in the entryway, arms curled around herself, looking out at the passing traffic of a small-town Saturday night. 

“You’re the only person I know who could make that exit look good,” Will said quietly, sitting down on the bench next to her. He could see the eyeroll as Rachel dashed the back of her hand across her face. 

Will was familiar with her composure process, having been privy to the tail end of many a Rachel Berry outburst over the years, over student council or the Cheerios or sectionals assignments. It was a bittersweet reminder that Will was one of the few people Rachel trusted enough to let see her in that state, something less than her perfect facade. This time, though, the frustration wasn’t over a high school boy, a denied solo, or fellow student plot to seize her spotlight. If Will wasn’t totally delusional (even though he’d never felt more so), he was the cause of Rachel hasty departure. And she might have wanted space, but it wasn’t in Will to stand awkwardly by, to let her sort it out alone and then face everyone inside with a bright smile that hid whatever she was feeling.

Clearing his throat and looking down towards the pavement, he wracked his brain trying to figure out what he could possibly say.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Rachel. It wasn’t my intention and if you felt it was inappropriate - hell, maybe it was - please know that I would never want to do that to you, to make you feel that way. I care about you, all of you, so much.” 

“You care about all of us?” 

Will looked up, and Rachel had turned, was sitting down next to him. 

“Of course I do. You know that, don’t you?.” 

Her eyes flashed dark, the carefully applied liner damply smudged around them. “Of course you do. Well thank God, that’s such a relief. I’ll go get Santana or Tina, you can have this conversation with one of them, if that’s how you feel.” 

And damn it, that wasn’t what Will intended. Putting his foot in his mouth again, he cringed at how he probably sounded to her. Idiot, he said to himself. Rachel stood up, turned back towards the door, and Will reached out for her hand, desperate to hold on to her before she passed him by. (And if that wasn’t a clear indication of where his feelings for her had shifted, he didn’t know what was.)

“You know that’s not what I meant. Rachel. Rachel.” He rose next to her, shifted Rachel so that he could see her face. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but if it’s anything like what’s running through my mind, frankly, I’m terrified.” 

“It’s that song. I thought - I don’t know why I suggested it. You looked at me like I had the plague for a week last time we performed it. I’ll never sing it with you again.” There was a hint of a smile on Rachel’s lips, though, and a familiar positive tilt in her words while her grip tightened around his hand.

“In case it slipped your mind, the last time we performed it, I was still married. Rachel, you were my student and I was your teacher. I think I had adequate reason.” 

“And now? Do you still have reasons?” She tilted her face down, stared at her fingers laced through his. 

He didn’t know where to even start. “This is unconventional, to say the least. If anything happens - Rachel, this is going to get complicated.” Will pulled her close, wrapped an arm around her back.

Rachel’s dark eyes met his with a knowing glint. “I’m not sixteen and I’m not in your class anymore, Mr Schuester.” 

The way she said his name, low and teasing, lit a spark in Will. “A fact for which I’m terribly grateful.” He felt a little light-headed as Rachel shifted against him, his fingers stroking her shoulder. “What’s stopping you from getting on a plane back to New York tomorrow and putting this behind you forever?”

Rachel let out a stubborn little huff and he saw that familiar determination settle into her jaw. “Have I ever done anything without a plan in mind?” Will shook his head and she rose up on her toes. There was a buzzy anticipation at the base of his spine as Rachel reached up, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck. “Stop wasting time thinking about tomorrow. I’m here right now.” 

It was, absurdly, like a new beginning and coming home at the same time. 

\--

“What are you thinking about?” Rachel’s lying with her head pillowed on Will’s shoulder and her hand traces absently over his chest, dim winter sunlight filtering through the blinds in her room.

“Mmm, just remembering Puck and Quinn’s wedding. What a lovely and momentous occasion it was.” 

“One of my better ideas, I think.” Will covers her hand with his own as she speaks, trapping it over his heart, offering Rachel a smile that she matches with one of her own. 

“Did you hear the baby’s due any minute? Noah keeps texting me, begging me to convince Quinn that Axl is an old Jewish name.” 

Will laughs, the teacher in him pleased that they’re all still in constant contact, so closely-knit together. “It’s nice to know some things never change,” he says. 

Rachel props herself on an elbow, her hair fanning out like a dark swirl against Will’s skin. “And I’m glad that some things do.” Her mouth meets his, her words an echo against his lips. 

“Me too, Rach.” He wraps his arms around her tightly, the feel of her in them something that Will aches for when they’re apart.

Edging her leg over his torso, Rachel turns to check the clock by her bed. “You’ve got forty-seven hours and twelve minutes to detail them for me. Start with how fantastic a singer you think I am.” 

“Nothing new, I’ve always thought that.” Will’s breath catches in his throat when she rolls her hips against him. 

“Mmm, but you never thought telling me was a good idea?” Rachel lets out a satisfied noise when his hand skims over her hip, slips between them. 

“You never thought to mention that crush that never faded away?” Will arches up when she shifts again, and any remaining words escape him.

“Waste of time, Mr Schue,” Rachel kisses him, and they don’t waste another minute.


End file.
